


84. Ryan visits Sam on set

by alley_oops, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Sam Worthington and Ryan Kwanten [84]
Category: Actor RPF, Australian Actor RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), True Blood RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-03
Updated: 2008-11-03
Packaged: 2018-01-15 14:22:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1307980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alley_oops/pseuds/alley_oops, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica





	84. Ryan visits Sam on set

_**Ryan Kwanten visits Sam Worthington on set**_  
[current; Sam is in London filming _Wrath of the Titans_ ]

The green screen is hard for Ryan to get used to, so he can only imagine how strange it feels to actors. He's watching Sam run through a fight for the fourth time, and he still can't get over it -- there's no friggin' enemy. The battle is between Perseus and a giant mythical monster which will be added in later through the magic of CGI, so Sam is sweating and emoting to a ball on a stick. Amused, Ryan rubs a smile from his lips. The fact is, an opponent would only distract him from Sam anyway. And his lover looks damn good.

When Jonathan yells cut, Sam drops his sword and steps down from the platform. His hands and face are grubby with dirt and he's covered with carefully placed cuts, a number of which are dripping dried blood. He looks around for Ryan, grinning as he spies his lover, and heads straight for him. "Hey. How'd it look?"

"Really good." Ryan stands up with a grin, and hands Sam a cold bottle of water. "You look really hot. I mean, on the set. With the lights. Fighting," he adds awkwardly. Jesus, is he a complete idiot? Talking to Sam like that in front of people. But Sam _does_ look hot, all beat-up and fierce and ready for a boy's attention. He makes Ryan's mouth water.

Sam's grin widens and he murmurs, "Nice one," out of the corner of his mouth before polishing off half the bottle in one go.

"Yeah." Ryan breathes a sigh of relief that he didn't piss Sam off. "Did you get the scene? Do you get a break now?" He's still not clear on just what determines whether a scene gets three takes or fourteen.

"Yeah, we got it, and Jonathan said we'd break for lunch after this, so we're good for about an hour," Sam says, finishing the rest of the water. "Want to see my trailer?"

"Sure." Ryan stuffs his hands in his pockets and studies the set, shrugging like it's no big thing what Sam just said. "Do you go change now, or do you keep your costume on and just try to keep it clean?" Or... less dirty anyway, considering.

"Keep it on," Sam says, motioning for Ryan to follow him as he heads for his trailer. "You have no idea how much fucking work goes into making me look like this." He points at the food tent. "You want to grab something? I have some sandwiches in my fridge but they've got some hot food too."

"Yeah, sounds good." Ryan couldn't care less. He's itching to go jump his hot movie star boyfriend, like, now. But said hot boyfriend has been burning crazy energy all morning, like Ryan hasn't, and could probably use the extra calories. Ryan follows Sam over to the catering tables and loads up a plate, snagging another bottle of water with his free hand. "Can we eat in your trailer?"

"Sure," Sam answers casually, like it doesn't matter. He chats to the food crew as he fills up his plate then grabs an extra roll and _two_ chocolate chip cookies - each the size of his hand - and motions again for Ryan to follow him. "You want a beer?" he asks with a grin, unlocking his trailer, making sure the two assistants nearby hear him. Propagate the continuing story of Sam and his mates and their partying.

Surprised, Ryan just laughs a little. He follows Sam up the steps and sets his lunch down on the table, then turns back to lock the door behind them. He's a little worried he's completely fucking obvious; how can he watch Sam be manly all morning and _not_ look like he wants him? Now he leans back against the wall with his water bottle, trying to stay out of Sam's way in the small trailer. Not wanting to mess up his costume or crowd him or whatever.

"You okay?" Sam asks, noting how quiet Ryan's gone as he hands over a beer and cracks open his own, taking a seat at the small table with his food.

"Yeah." Ryan sits down opposite and takes a large slug of beer. "Sorry about before," he mumbles. "I guess I kind of got caught up, lost my head." Something about Sam in leather armour, swinging a big-ass sword.

Sam shrugs. "I don't think anyone was paying attention, but yeah, you probably need to be more careful." Shit. _They_ need to be more careful. Especially with all the hard work they're putting into the whole Natalie thing.

"Okay." Ryan nods."I will be." A smile tugs at his lips, and he pokes at his food with his fork. It actually smells delicious, but... "Hurry up and eat," he says softly. "I've only got forty-five minutes left to jump you."

"You're gonna make me skip my cookies, aren't you?" Sam teases, digging into his lunch. He'd choose Ryan over cookies any fucking day. Chocolate included.

"Yeah, I'm a real slavedriver," Ryan says with a laugh. They eat in companionable silence, and he polishes off his beer. "It's really interesting seeing what you do all day."

"Does it look like work? Or like I'm just fooling around?" Sam asks, curious to know what it looks like from the outside.

"It looks like you're working hard. I mean, it doesn't _look_ like you're working, it looks real," Ryan adds, trying to explain. "But you look very into it. Not like you're playing around at all." He chuckles. "Although it does look like fun. I think I've got sword envy."

Sam laughs. "We can play around when we're done today if you want," he offers, quickly finishing his meat pie. "You can see what it's like."

"Yeah? Cool." Okay, there's apparently still enough of a little boy in Ryan to light up at that offer. The rest of him, though... he shakes his head at himself and opens his water bottle. Definitely no more beer for him.

"Want a cookie?" Sam asks, grinning widely, watching Ryan.

Ryan raises an eyebrow and just looks at Sam for a moment. "You go ahead," he says, barely holding back his own smile. "I'll help with any crumbs that get on your fingers."

"You sure? I've got two," Sam says, eyes sparkling, holding the second out to Ryan even as he's already munching on the first. "They're really good."

"Mm-hmm." Ryan's mouth twists and he has to laugh. He takes the cookie out of Sam's hand and pointedly puts it down. Then he leans over and starts licking Sam's fingers, getting every miniscule crumb.

"Fuck," Sam mumbles, watching Ryan, eyes on his mouth, his tongue, his other hand stilling, hovering in mid-air with half the other damn cookie in it.

 _Good enough_. It's a little cramped but Ryan slips down to his knees, taking Sam's wrist in his hand. Shutting his eyes as he sucks Sam's index finger into his mouth, working it with his tongue.

It's like his cock is wired to that finger, the way it reacts, stiffening instantly. Sam shifts so both legs are around the side of the table and drops the last of the cookie onto his plate. Yeah. There's no doubt about it. Ryan really does win out over chocolate.

It's a clear invitation, permission even, but Ryan takes his time. He's not done with Sam's hand yet. He sucks two of Sam's fingers into his mouth with a soft moan, letting the sensuality of the moment get to him as well. Rocking slightly to ease the sudden constriction in his jeans. He traces his fingertips over the inside of Sam's wrist but forgoes licking there - too much make-up and fake dirt - and slides his other hand up Sam's thigh, beneath his costume.

Sam spreads his legs a little more, as wide as his position will allow, his cock pressing against the weight of his kilt. "Fuck, yeah," he murmurs, eyes growing heavy-lidded with pleasure, every lick, every suck making that coiling arousal draw tighter.

Ryan's hand encounters smooth cotton - the dark green khaki briefs Sam had told him he wears for concealment during fight scenes - and he rubs the ridge of Sam's cock through it. Just the feel of his lover swollen hard against his palm makes his breath come a little faster, and he nips at Sam's fingertip, hungry. Finally dropping his head and pushing up the leather kilt so he can tug the briefs out of the way and lap at the head of Sam's cock.

With a soft ragged groan, Sam shoves a hand into Ryan's hair, urging him on, his cock already leaking precome and his balls drawing up tight.

That telltale salty tang bursts on Ryan's tongue and he moans, lust clutching tight in his gut. He slides his mouth down Sam's shaft, sucking hard on the way back up. Dipping his hand between Sam's thighs to fondle his balls as he starts bobbing his head, determined to bring his lover over.

Sam holds out as long as he can, breathing through his nose, his teeth gritted, every moan kept so fucking quiet, far too aware as he is of those walking around outside his trailer. But it feels incredible, Ryan's mouth so fucking good, it's only minutes before his body's seizing tight and his cock's pulsing hard, spurt after spurt flooding his boy's throat.

 _Yes_. There's nothing like this feeling. Even though he knows he'll probably be hard and frustrated for the rest of the day, Ryan thrills with triumph. Owning every drop Sam shoots down his throat. Stroking his lover through the aftershocks, then pulling off with a sloppy satisfied grin.

Sam laughs at the look on Ryan's face. "You look pretty pleased with yourself," he says, leaning in before Ryan can answer to kiss him and kiss him thoroughly, tongue sweeping through his mouth. Groaning at the way he can taste himself on his lover.

Shivering with a shock of lust, Ryan blinks his eyes open heavily when Sam pulls back from the kiss. "We should break in every one of your costumes this way."

"Yeah, we should," Sam nods, grinning. He presses the toe of his sandal between Ryan's legs, pushing hard against the ridge in his jeans. "You gonna stay like that?"

Ryan groans. "Yeah, I expect so," he murmurs, allowing himself one and only one thrust against Sam's foot. "Unless you've got other ideas, Sir."

"I was thinking--" There's a knock at the trailer door and Sam curses softly under his breath as he gets told he's wanted back on set. "Never mind," he grins. "I guess you _are_ staying like that for a while."

Just for that, Ryan grinds against Sam's foot one more time. "Kiss me again first," he whispers. "I'll need it to hold me over."

Sam smiles and leans down again, sliding his hand into the back of Ryan's hair and crushing their mouths together.

Ryan smiles when Sam pulls away, and gets to his feet, brushing off his knees. He tugs at his jeans, trying to make his erection look less obvious. "All set."

"Good," Sam grins and ruffles Ryan's hair, locking the trailer behind them and leading the way back to the set. It's more fighting monsters and swinging swords and there's enough technical problems they keep taking one break after another, Sam bending over to fidget with the laces on his sandal-boots whenever he gets the chance, making sure Ryan's got a clear fucking view up his kilt.

Jesus. It's so damn fucking hard not to look. But Ryan knows that if he lets himself look, then he's going to _stare_. So he shifts on his little folding chair, trying to find a comfortable position. And he attempts to focus on the scene, when suddenly all he can think about is bending Sam over in his trailer.

Sam makes his way over on a longer break. "Enjoying yourself?" he ask, snagging a bottle of water from the cooler beside Ryan.

"Yeah," Ryan says with a smile, his gaze moving over Sam's chest to his biceps. _Fuck_. He swallows hard, and drags his eyes up to meet his lover's. "It's going well, right? All this is normal?"

Sam nods, twisting the bottle open and taking a long drink. "Yeah," he nods again, licking his lips. "Totally normal. Unfortunately," he adds with a laugh. "Anytime you're dealing with technical shit, it gets like this."

"...Uh-huh." One flash of tongue, and Ryan's heart just stuttered to a stop. Fuck, he's hard. Ryan shakes himself, shifting position, and checks out the set -- of which there isn't a whole lot to check out. "Well. Are you having fun?"

Eyes sparkling, Sam asks, "What do you think?"

"Yeah. I mean, it looks like a lot of fun." Sam seems to be taking the technical difficulties in stride, anyway, which is a relief to Ryan. He glances briefly up at his lover - that's normal, right? A normal thing to do in the course of a normal conversation - but then has to look away again. The bruise on Sam's neck from a couple weeks ago is pretty much entirely gone, and that bugs Ryan. Maybe Sam will let him mark him somewhere beneath the armour-covered areas, next time.

It's only then - with the way Ryan glances up at him and away again - that Sam realizes his lover hasn't clued in at all to his teasing. "It does, does it?" he says casually, his voice a little quieter when he adds, for Ryan's ears alone, "Including me fixing my sandals?"

Ryan looks up at Sam in confusion, trying to decipher that. Then his eyes widen. "You bastard," he whispers, even as his cock throbs. "You evil bastard." He rubs his fingers over his lips, trying to wipe away a nagging smile.

Sam grins, turning his head a little more. "You'd be disappointed if I wasn't," he murmurs.

"I'll be disappointed if you don't--" Ryan abruptly cuts off his mutter, soft though it is. _Christ_. "Yeah," he agrees simply, slumping down in his chair and stretching his legs out, crossing them at the ankles. This is going to be a long afternoon.

By the time they wrap up, Sam's made sure to tease Ryan in every single way possible without alerting anyone watching them. It's pretty damn easy given how many seemingly innocuous gestures mean something totally different to them. "Did you want to take a turn with the swords?" he asks Ryan, as everyone around them starts packing up for the day.

Ryan bites back an exasperated frown, privately amazed that Sam managed to ask him a question without simultaneously dragging his thumb across his bottom lip. "Just one sword," he murmurs, his eyes hot on his lover. "Maybe two."

Sam laughs. "Catch," he says, tossing him a sword, mindful that it's definitely not the one he meant. He picks up a second. "Come on and spar with me."

"Don't get yourself hurt," Jonathan warns, looking up from where he's going over the next day's schedule with the production assistants. "We're already behind from today. The last thing I need is my leading man maimed or mutilated."

Sam laughs even harder. "Thanks for the confidence. Nice to know you think my mate's gonna beat my ass," he says, eyes sparkling again at the last.

Jonathan just shakes his head. "You know what I mean," he says, motioning for the assistant to follow him before the clanging starts.

 _Ohhh fuck_. Ryan had thought this was a good idea, fun and all. But he suddenly realizes it's a very, very bad idea. Spar, with Sam? Right out here on the studio lot, where anyone could see them? "I'm beginning to think you _want_ your ass beaten," he says quietly, adjusting his grip on the hilt until it feels comfortable. He raises the sword and takes a defensive position, unsure just how this is going to go.

"We're just getting everyone cleared out," Sam murmurs under his breath before bringing his sword in against Ryan's. "Goofing around." And again.

Moving at half-speed, Ryan swings his sword around and taps Sam's from the other side, stepping forward as he does it. Trying to see if he can make Sam retreat at all. "You know my history with fighting," he says quietly, his eyes steady on his lover's. "How I feel about my opponents."

Sam nods, grinning, his sword clanging off of Ryan's. "Does that mean I should let you cut me so I can win?" he asks, figuring if anyone _does_ hear them they won't understand anyway.

Ryan's eyes flash with heat. "You could do that," he says, a little breathless even though they're hardly working. "We'd have to make a quick exit."

Sam surges forward, smashing his sword against Ryan's, his eyes darting back and forth around them, checking out just how many people are still watching them. "You remember how to get to my trailer?"

Surprised by the sudden attack, Ryan shoves Sam away a second late. "I remember," he growls, parrying back. Imagining what it would be like to take Sam down right here, and letting his arousal from the afternoon build.

"Good." Sam grins, taking one step back before lunging again, their swords meeting with a solidity that jars right up into his shoulders. "Just don't think I'm gonna make it easy on you."

"No, why would you do that?" Ryan replies, working to keep his voice low. "It's not like you _want_ to lose." He steps aside and spins, crashing his sword into Sam's from the other side. "Not like you know exactly what you'll get if you lose."

Sam's cock throbs with the 'threat' and he takes a couple of quick steps away from Ryan before lunging forward again, his sword brought in a second time, quickly, clanging loudly against Ryan's before he leaves himself open for the next hit, the metal just sharp enough to cut his bicep.

 _Shit_. Stopped short, Ryan stares at the bloody streak, transfixed. He drops his sword. "Let's get out of here. We need to clean that up," he says, not taking his eyes off the cut for a second. Reaching out for Sam's sword, he simply drops that as well, then pushes Sam towards the door.

Grinning to himself, Sam heads straight for his trailer, grateful for the weight of the leather kilt which hides his erection.

Trailer door shut and locked behind them, Ryan follows Sam into the dimness. He wastes no time in shoving his lover against the wall, his heartbeat pounding. And he licks, lapping up the blood from the small cut, closing his mouth on Sam's skin again and again.

Sam's head goes back, his hands clenching into fists as Ryan sucks, cock responding to every pull of Ryan's mouth. And it's all he can do to keep quiet, to bite back the moans and the curses that would spill from his lips if they weren't here, on set, where anyone passing by could hear them.

"Tell me you have lube," Ryan gasps, slipping his hand beneath Sam's kilt and closing his fingers around Sam's cock, rubbing him through his shorts. "Hand lotion. _Something_."

"There's a tube of moisturizer in the drawer," Sam manages to get out, nodding in that direction. "You can use that."

Ryan lets go and steps away to snatch up the moisturizer, even as he shakes his head. "This'll hurt," he says, and presses a quick hard kiss to his lover's mouth, leaving behind a streak of crimson. "Bend over the table. You sure you won't be too sore for filming tomorrow?"

"Probably, but when's that ever stopped me?" Sam says with a laugh, getting into position.

 _God, I love you_. Ryan grins and steps behind Sam, tugging his lover's shorts down. "You look so fucking hot like this," he murmurs, slicking one finger and rubbing it around Sam's hole before pressing it inside. "So powerful. Strong. Sexy." He smears more lotion on and pushes a second finger in, curling to hit Sam's prostate.

Sam grits out a curse, groaning softly as Ryan's fingers play over that bundle of nerves and he pushes back for more.

His breath catching, Ryan fucks his fingers into Sam, letting his own arousal coil tight. He adds a third finger, watching his lover's body stretch around him. Moaning at the feeling.

Pain spikes through Sam at the third finger but it quickly segues into pleasure, his face growing hot at the thought of anyone finding them like this, catching him with his legs spread wide for his lover.

In and out, smooth slide, three long fingers twisted tight together and coring Sam open. Ryan drops his free hand down to rub against the bulge of his own erection, straining to shove back his desire until it's more under his control. "Need you," he grates out.

"Then you should take me," Sam breathes, glancing over his shoulder at Ryan, another soft ragged moan spilling from his lips, his cock smearing precome against the edge of the table.

 _Oh. God._ Any thought Ryan has of holding back goes up in flames. He drops his jeans to his knees and rubs moisturizer over his cock in a generous layer. With one hand he spreads Sam's cheeks, then presses the head to Sam's hole, nudging him open. The sight snaps something in Ryan's chest, and he grits his jaw and shoves forward.

Fuck. _Fuck_ fuck _fuck_. Sam digs his teeth into his forearm, into the leather of his vambrace, determined to keep quiet even as the pain sears right through him, his body seizing tight around Ryan's cock.

Ryan stills, gasping for breath, his heartbeat thundering. Leaning down, he licks at the nape of Sam's neck, tasting sweat. Stroking with his tongue as he starts to ease back, pulling against the drag of Sam's muscles.

The sound Sam makes then is barely human, but it's still muffled by leather, choked in his throat, his cock rock hard through it all.

"Shhh," Ryan soothes. "It's okay, baby. I've got you." He rocks gently against Sam, giving his body time - now - to ease, open up. Buried deep inside his lover and letting every bit of friction coil lust tighter in his gut.

"Oh, god," Sam whispers, lifting his head a little. He moans, softly, eyes clenched shut as he pushes back a little, feeling his hole stretch around Ryan. "It's okay," he whispers back, knowing they can't take forever, that someone's going to come looking for him, for his costume, at some point. "I'm okay now."

Ryan drops a hand and rubs his finger around his cock, playing over the tight-stretched skin. Pressing as he pulls back, then thrusts inside. And then again, the pace picking up automatically, his orgasm already teasing at the edges of his self-control.

Sam drops his head again, groaning against the table and into his forearms, moving back against Ryan to meet those thrusts. "Oh, fuck, god, I'm gonna come..."

"Do it." Ryan closes his hand around Sam's cock and begins stroking in demand, slamming in harder. Dropping his head back and riding his lover.

With Ryan's hand around him, it doesn't take much. Another half dozen thrusts and Sam's coming hard, his mouth open in a silent shout as his whole body seizes, hole clenching convulsively around his lover's cock as his own spurts again and again, painting fingers, table and floor. Christ.

"Please, please, please," Ryan begs in a whisper, but it's too late: the clutch of Sam's body yanks him over the edge and he bucks madly into his lover, filling him. He collapses against Sam's back, gasping for a long moment, but then forces himself up. Dropping to his knees he spreads Sam's cheeks wide, lapping up his own come.

Sam moans, eyes wide with surprise and cock spurting again as Ryan's tongue works its way into his hole. He curses under his breath, wondering just how fucking crazy they have to be to have done this, to have taken this chance, but in the end he doesn't care. It feels too fucking good.

Every drop taken back into himself, but Ryan's still on his knees, tongue-fucking Sam hungrily. His heart is still racing when he eases back, then pushes to his feet. "You okay, love?" he asks softly, wrapping his arms around Sam from behind.

"No," Sam says, shaking his head, his tone solemn, completely serious, before he gives in and grins. "I think you killed me."

At first, Ryan's heart outright stops in shock. Then he relaxes again, rolling his eyes with relief. "I'm so fucking crazy about you," he whispers, rubbing at a strange indentation - teeth marks? - on Sam's leather vambrace. He grabs a box of Kleenex and hands it to his lover, watching Sam's face.

"Thanks," Sam murmurs, cleaning up and stripping off his breastplate. He wasn't completely lying though. He's worn out. Holds his arms out in front of him. "Help me?"

"Yeah." Ryan unbuckles one vambrace then the other, laying them on the table. He tugs his jeans up, then drops to his knees, bracing Sam's right foot on his thigh so he can unbuckle his sandal. He takes pleasure in the task, small details of caring for his lover, his Sir.

"Maybe you should be my personal assistant," Sam says, watching Ryan at work. God knows he doesn't really use the one they've assigned him.

"Definitely don't want anyone else doing all this for you," Ryan says, smirking slightly. He glances up at his lover, his eyes alight. "It's a very personal touch."

"Yeah, it is," Sam agrees, eyes sparkling. "This - and fucking me over the table in my trailer."

Ryan grins, rising fluidly to his feet. "Take me home," he murmurs, brushing his lips over Sam's. "And you can return the favor."

Sam grins back. "Just let me get changed," he whispers, nipping at Ryan's mouth. "And I'll be glad to." Laughing softly as he says, "Hey, didn't we have a rule where you were supposed to get permission before you came?"

"Um." Ryan's cheeks flush hot. "Yeah," he whispers. At least Sam doesn't look pissed off. "I guess I... when I'm fucking you, I... Sorry." _Fuck._

"God, you're gorgeous when you blush," Sam says, pulling on a t-shirt and jeans. Not that Ryan's not fucking hot _all_ the time. "And actually, I've been meaning to talk to you about that anyway."

"Yeah?" Ryan feels cold in the pit of his stomach. He reaches out and rubs a spot of dirt from Sam's arm. He fucked up. He _knew_ he was doing it, and he did it anyway. "Shoot."

"I'll shower when we get home," Sam says. It's getting too late now to do it here. He leans back against the edge of the table. "It's a stupid rule. I like it when you can't control yourself. When you're overcome and you can't hold on. I want you to keep trying to hold back and trying to ask for permission like you always have, but I'm not going to punish you unless I've out and out told you no, or ordered you to hold on. Okay?"

"It's not a stupid rule," Ryan says in a soft voice, his eyes searching Sam’s face. Oddly hurt, if irrationally so. "I mean, none of our rules are stupid. But I'm glad you're not angry with me."

"Okay, maybe it's not stupid, maybe that's the wrong word to use," Sam says, watching Ryan, not sure why his lover's so bothered by what he's saying. "Maybe it's... not something I care about. And I made it a rule because it seems like it's page one of the dom's handbook when you take a girl or boy. You tell them they can't come without your permission. But that only works if you're willing to punish them every time they do." He shrugs. "What do you want? Do you want me to keep the rule in place?"

"No, it's... it's fine," Ryan says, shaking his head. "I just..." He frowns at himself, and focuses on zipping up his jeans, setting them to rights. That done, he stuffs his hands into his pockets and leans back against the wall. "I still want to beg, most of the time. And I want you to punish me if I don't make it, most of the time. Just not when I'm fucking you." Somehow, that dynamic just never seems to work out for him.

"That works," Sam says with a smile. He slides his hand into the back of Ryan's hair and tugs him in for a kiss. "I like your begging."

Slipping his arms around Sam's waist, Ryan smiles into the kiss. "It does get awfully desperate sometimes," he murmurs against his lover's mouth.

Sam grins, licking across Ryan's lips. "Let's go home and find out just _how_ desperate."  



End file.
